


Golden Diplomacy

by CorvidFightClub



Series: Dragon Fire [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I'm not sorry, M/M, Sexual Coercion, still no dragon dick, the return of the cock bondage jewelry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFightClub/pseuds/CorvidFightClub
Summary: Smaug pays Thranduil a second visit.





	Golden Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> A reader asked for a sequel to "All That Glitters". So. Here we are.
> 
> Big thanks to Roo for betaing for me <3 STILL NO DRAGON DICK SORRY GET OVER IT.

Thranduil set a glass of wine on the nightstand and went about dressing for bed. The fire was stoked, a book placed on his pillow, the balcony door shut. It felt so small a thing, panes of glass and wood against the night and all the things it held, and yet there was some fraction of comfort in it. 

Settling on his bed, Thranduil opened his book, rested the wineglass against his lip as he read. No more nightmares of dragons kidnapping him. No more rending his nightshirt in his sleep or somehow drunkenly adorning his privates with gold and rubies. He still questioned where such jewelry had come from and decided it was in his best interest to let it sit in the back of a drawer until the next Age dawned. 

A gust of wind rattled the windows. 

Thranduil turned the page. They were due for a storm. The trees had been crying out for rain these few days past. 

Then there came a scratching, insistent and sharp.

Thranduil looked up from his book and the blood froze in his veins. 

“Let me in, trifle,” rumbled the figure on his balcony, dropping one clawed hand from the glass.  

Heartbeat in his ears, Thranduil swallowed, his mouth dry despite the wine. He remembered their terms and the consequences of his refusal, now more immediate than ever. Hands shaking, Thranduil set aside his book, wine, and rose, going to the too-flimsy balcony door and opening it.

“Our agreement,” Thranduil demanded with more mettle than he felt. 

Smaug smiled with his man’s mouth. “It stands, provided you abide by it, little king.” The dragon’s golden eyes held him, pulling a deep heat from his gut. Hot languor wound through him until the fear was a dull clamor in the back of his mind. 

Thranduil stepped back once, twice, and the dragon-man followed.  “What do you want?”

Smaug tipped his head to one side, red-gold hair sliding over his shoulder. “To continue our...diplomacy.” He reached for Thranduil’s nightshirt. 

The elven king took a final step back, thwarting him. “Permit me,” he murmured, removing the garment himself in quick, self-conscious movements. Smaug moved closer, sliding down Thranduil’s breeches and small clothes with one clawed hand, the other whispering down his hip. “Our agreement. None of my people are hurt,” Thranduil pushed. 

Smaug rumbled and herded him back towards the bed.

Thranduil fell back on the mattress of straw and down then pushed himself up onto his elbows, backing up against the headboard as Smaug crawled after him. “Answer me, dragon!” Thranduil hissed.

Smaug gripped Thranduil’s throat, pinning him there. “The jewels,” he growled. “Where are they?”

The elven king’s eyes went to the nightstand. 

Smaug’s free hand found what he sought at the back of the drawer, jostling the wine glass,then returning with the fine chain dripping rubies. Thranduil forced his breathing to steady as the dragon once again wrapped his cock with it, snug around its root, spiraling tight around his length to his apex. Already a greedy hand was reaching beneath his balls, feeling for his asshole. No hot mouth to lull him, no clever tongue to work him open this time. “There is a pot of oil in the drawer. Use it. I’m not female and do not make my own wetness.” The dragon looked at him suspiciously until he added, “It will make it...more enjoyable for you.”

Smaug found the small ceramic pot, sniffed it, then seemed satisfied enough with the promise of more pleasure to smear the length of his ruddy cock with it. He pushed Thranduil’s knees towards his chest to bare the pucker of his ass, then nudged his slickened cock against it.

Thranduil shut his eyes and pressed his mouth to a thin line, his own traitorous cock beginning to swell against the fine chain encircling it. His silence was paramount. Any shouts would bring his guards running and it would mean their deaths. 

Smaug’s cockhead circled his asshole in lazy passes, rubbing the oil over him. “Who will you call for, little king?” The blunt head pushed inside of him and Thranduil stifled a gasp. “Which of your subjects would see their lord having congress with a dragon?” Smaug’s girth stretched him wider to the edge of pain and Thranduil gave thanks he had persuaded the dragon into using the oil. 

“None,” Thranduil grit out as the dragon’s hot weight settled on him. 

Smaug’s clawed thumb traveled from his jaw to his lips, scraping over them, leaving stinging cuts in its wake. His golden eyes remained on Thranduil’s mouth, unreadable and disconcerting. Then his hips moved, slow, rolling as waves lapping at a shore yet so close and sinuous. Thranduil gripped at the sheets beneath him. He had expected to be taken mercilessly without recourse, a painful defeat to be endured, not this languid slide and thrust his body sought to relax into. This insidious calefaction that demanded he respond in kind, from his panting breaths to his engorged cock straining with his heartbeat against the golden chains that held him fast. It lay against his stomach, heavy in its pool of gold and gentle rain of blood-red. Beyond it, the open valley of his legs and Smaug’s thick shaft glistening as it speared him.

_ Yavannah _ , Thranduil called her name with silent lips as his head pressed back into the pillows.  _ Yavannah, give me strength.  _ He imagined her trees, bigger than castle turrets and twice as hardy, the bark rough, unyielding. Proof even against dragon fire.Tender, green leaves rising from blackened earth.

A cool breeze swept in from the open balcony. Thranduil’s mind surfaced from whatever depths it had been sent to as Smaug pulled from him, his own spent passion cooling on his stomach. The dragon left as suddenly as he had appeared, no fanfare, no stinging words as he departed through the balcony doors and into the night. Only the sudden gust of hot wind rocking the trees and the rustle of wingbeats betrayed his passage.


End file.
